Gifts Are Important, Dummy
by outtabreath
Summary: Gaila learns about Christmas and.... Written for Doc Spleenmeister and the WA Secret Santa. Fourth in the Dr. Flenderson series.
1. Trinkets in the Window

All of the usual disclaimers and warnings apply. I don't own the characters - I let the characters have lots of sex (well, two of them at least). Don't sue. Don't read if you don't want to.

You may notice that the title "in here" is different than the title "out there" - I take ratings and FF's guidelines seriously. Dumbass, while funny, is not a K-rated word - hence the substitution of "dummy" on the synopsis.

Thanks to the ladies at Writers Anonymous for everything; the song was given to me by miss steph - beta and smutty song writer extraordinaire.

This was written for the WA Secret Santa "gifting."

For Doc Spleenmeister: Happy Christmas; Merry New Year; Sweet Spock Dreams, always.

~*~**Gifts **_**Are**_** Important, Dumbass** **by outtabreath**~*~

_**~Part One of Four: Trinkets in the Window~**_

"It's almost Christmas," she said, bouncing up and down immoderately.

"Uh huh," I murmured, trying to figure out a particularly vexing problem for Advanced Subspace Geometry.

_I really, really hate geometry in all its many forms._

Bounce, bounce, creak, bounce.

_How is it that her bed can withstand the constant bouncing?_

It was a question for the ages.

And probably one that geometry could be used to figure out.

If someone were so inclined.

Which I was most definitely not.

"Christmas," she said, loudly.

"Celebrated on the 25th of December on Earth," I replied, refusing to take my eyes off the PADD; fifteen more seconds, and I have this figured out. I just knew it. "Derived from the Roman festival of Saturnalia and co-opted by Christians to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Still celebrated by both Christians and non-Christians alike; a traditional family holiday for many Humans."

"And a day to give presents," she prompted.

_Got it! Subspace, you are_ no _match for Nyota Uhura, Cadet!_

I saved my answer and looked at my still-bouncing roommate. "A day for people who celebrate Christmas to give gifts to other people who celebrate Christmas," I clarified. "And this is your third December on Earth, why are you just getting to this now?"

"Because I read a book."

"Let me guess…." I started.

She stopped bouncing and adopted a very serious expression. "Kelly says in _Gifts_ Are _Important, Dumbass_ that gifts are the oil of relationships – they keep the mechanism moving forward."

"Okay," I said, because it was easier than giving her a real response.

"I'm happy you agree," she said chirpily. "You're finally learning that I know best." She took a deep breath and continued with the dance of delusion. "So, what are you getting The Commander?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, emit a humph, or otherwise show my disdain. Spock was a Vulcan and Vulcans were beyond things like presents or Christmas. Instead, I said, "Spock doesn't celebrate Christmas."

"His mom's Human. From Earth. I bet he does. I bet he knows all about it. I bet he and his mom decorated a tree and baked cookies and drank hot chocolate. I bet his mom knitted him a hideous sweater every year for Christmas, and that he wore it even though he hated it because it was his mom's gift to him."

"Stop saying 'I bet,'" I said even as I turned that over in my brain for a moment. I'd seen sweaters in his rooms and they _were_ pretty hideous.

Maybe the insane Orion was right.

_Oh God!_

_What the heck do you get for a Vulcan? Why'd his mom have to take the sweater idea? What if I give him the wrong thing? What if I got him something and he didn't get me something? What if I didn't get him something and he got me something? Why hadn't _I_ read _Gifts _Are_ Important, Dumbass?_ Why did Gaila wait so long to tell me about this?_

I felt panic wash over me. It'd been a while, but I remembered how it felt.

_Panic feels like realizing you loved a Vulcan who didn't know you were a woman. Feels like kissing a professor. Like getting drunk and kissing a teacher. Like thinking your lover was going to drop you the minute you got home._

I sucked in a deep breath and pushed myself out of the panic spiral.

Dark, melting eyes, fixed attentively on me; the sharing of bodies, minds and souls.

_Spock loves me and nothing's going to change that._

_Especially not an Earth holiday._

This was not something I needed to worry about.

"Dr. Flenderson lived during a very different period of Earth's history," I pointed out. "Celebrating holidays and giving gifts were very important in her century. We've evolved."

"No one ever evolves that much," Gaila countered, plopping down on the end of my bed and waving something. I forced my eyes to focus and realized what she was holding: wrapping paper; actual, made-from-trees wrapping paper – complete with brightly colored pictures of candy canes.

"Why do you have that?"

"You'll see," she said as she folded herself down over the paper; with a pen – a pen with_ ink_ – she began to write something on the blank whiteness of the back.

It was like a Paleolithic Human had stridden into our room and began to manipulate a PADD.

"Dear Santa," she said.

_Oh, man. Oh, big man dressed all in red._

"Gaila," I began.

"Shh," she said, "Me first. I have another piece of paper for you." She bit her lip, and continued, "I know that I have been here on Earth for almost four years, but I didn't fully understand the importance of Christmas gift giving until I read a book about it.

"In the spirit of the season, I have forgiven my Human roommate for not giving me gifts prior to this."

I rolled my eyes.

"But I figure you – and she – owe me big. So here is what I want:

"To see The Commander all sweaty."

"Gaila!" I yelped, my fingers tightening.

"Or video of the same; I'd even accept Nyota giving me a very detailed description," she continued.

"You're negotiating with Santa Claus?" I questioned.

She cast baleful eyes on me as she twiddled the pen. "I believe that is acceptable. I watched _A Christmas Story_ when you abandoned me last week for a three day long sex romp with The Commander."

I sighed. "I explained this to you. We were translating Romulan transmissions. In the language lab. It was very important work."

"And you didn't have sex at all?"

_Damn it!_

"Finish writing your letter," I prompted.

"I _thought _so," she said triumphantly. "So, as I was saying, the movie was quite educational – I learned that negotiating with Santa Claus is not only acceptable but expected. I also learned that Earth dogs like turkey.

"Oh! And it was much, much, _much_ better than _They Live_."

"I made you watch it _once_!"

"You should get coal in your shoe…."

"Stocking," I corrected.

"For making me watch it all," she continued.

I glared at her, and she dropped her eyes – but not because she was chastened. Oh no, Gaila was _never_ chastened.

"Also, I would like new shoes, that special vibrating toy Cossette showed me yesterday, and a trip to where Scranton once stood so I can see where Dr. Kelly Flenderson lived." She signed her name in flowing Orion script.

"A restrained list," I said. "I believe requesting a doll or a pony is also traditional."

"Pwah! What's a pony? And I don't want a doll – ohhh, unless it's an anatomically correct male doll. That might be fun." She scribbled "male doll" on the list. "

"You do know that there is no such thing as Santa Claus?" I pointed out gently, worried that somehow she _didn't _know.

"Ny!" she said, her voice this side of whiny, "I know _that_. I just wanted to write a letter to him. It's a traditional Christmas activity."

"What other Christmas traditions do I have to look forward to? Singing Christmas carols?"

"Definitely."

"Cookies? Eggnog?"

"I like cookies, but eggnog sounds disgusting."

"It kind of is. How about a tree?"

She shuddered, just like I knew she would. "Needles falling on the floor," she murmured, almost in pain. "No. No tree." She shook her head, and grabbed up the second piece of wrapping paper. "Your turn."

"I'm not writing a letter to Santa."

"I'll write it for you; all you have to do is dictate."

I stared her down.

"Fine, I'll start for you. Dear Santa: I would like you to remove the stick that is currently up my butt."

"Don't write that!"

"Too late."

"Fine," I said. "I'd like _A Complete History of the Romulan Language_ by Doctor S. Meister. I was actually hoping that Spock and I would be able to meet with her when we were in Oxford."

"Blah blah Romulan blah blah Oxford professor blah but Spock and I ended up having wild Vulcan Love Bunny sex instead blah blah _boring_. Ny, you _know_ when you start talking about languages I wish I didn't have ears.

"Ohh!" She grabbed up her list and scribbled something on it with one hand; the other was stretched out – palm facing me. Finished adding, she snapped her head up and said, "The request for the book is denied."

"Spock says that it's an exceptional work – but it's definitely out of my credit range," I persevered. "That's just the kind of thing you put in a letter to Santa."

"Denied! You need to ask for fun stuff."

_You can't edit my Christmas wish list!_

I opened my mouth and readied to speak; she cut me off before I got out a syllable, "Oh no! I know what you're going to say. Denied. Denied. Denied. Ask for something else."

"Peace in the galaxy."

"Pwah! Then we'd be out of jobs; no, something else."

"This isn't how this works. I get to ask for what I want."

"But you're going to ask for stupid stuff," she said.

"Fine, I want another year with Spock."

That would be fun. It _was_ fun.

_It's everything I've ever wanted, needed and wished for._

"Okay. That's acceptable." She put down her list and retrieved mine, scribbled for a moment, then looked up at me expectantly.

"That's it," I said. "That's all I need."

"You just don't get it, do you?" she questioned. "You can ask for anything – that's the fun of this."

I smiled smugly. "But I have everything. That's the real fun."

She rolled her eyes. "But you're not supposed to let _Santa _know that."

I didn't respond, and the silence stretched on. Finally, she huffed, "That's all you're asking for? Really?"

"Really."

"Sometimes I despair of you," she said, carefully folding our letters. "The bagging of The Commander aside."

"Sorry," I said, not at all recalcitrant.

"You shouldn't lie," she said, moving from my bed to hers. "It makes Santa mad."

"Sometimes I think you really are crazy," I sighed, picking up my PADD. I had more homework to do.

"Only sometimes?" she demanded, as she flipped on her own PADD and started to do what I hoped was actual schoolwork.

"Only sometimes," I conceded.

"You don't care that you're going to be on the naughty list, do you?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I'd think you'd say the naughty list is the only place to be."

She was still working away, but she was able to spare some attention to respond to me. "No. Gifts are important."

"Dumbass," I added helpfully.

She narrowed her blue-gray eyes at me, and then held her PADD up. "Do you think he's cute?"

"_Santa_? Do I think Santa's cute?" I asked.

"I think so," she said, placing the PADD reverently back on her lap and – oh no! – tracing the lines of the picture with her fingertips. "He's the perfect man: He always brings presents with him and he looks good in red. The whole one-night-a-year thing isn't great – but I bet I could get him to visit more often."

I opened my mouth to speak, then gave up.

_Dear Santa, please make my roommate less crazy._


	2. Making Spirits Bright

Disclaimers, warnings, thanks in chapter one.

_**~Part Two of Four: Making Spirits Bright~**_

"I'm tired already," she said as we walked into the gym. "Why did I let you talk me into this?"

"I didn't talk you into this," I pointed out. "You invited yourself along."

"Because you made it sound so fun."

"I said, 'I'm going to the gym.'"

"But you said it in an enticing tone."

I kept walking, heading to the upper level as she trailed behind me, and scanned the busy area to find two treadmills open beside each other.

"_Thank_ you, Santa," Gaila breathed out beside me.

I snapped my head towards her, then, on her awestruck expression, followed her gaze.

Spock was there, running on one of the treadmills. His body was fluid, every muscle working in perfect unison to propel him a step forward, to keep up with the rapidly unspooling belt.

I knew he was in good shape – knew intimately how toned every muscle of his body was; I had experienced firsthand the power and skill of that magnificent form. But this was something entirely new and breathtaking.

I'd never seen him run before; he was made for motion.

I could see every muscle in his thighs tensing and releasing as he pushed himself harder and faster. His chest was moving in an even rhythm, his arms working like pistons. He was sweating, his gray shirt and black shorts plastered to his body, leaving every line of muscle etched with liquid.

My knees went weak.

"If I have to hold you up there are going to be all kinds of awkward questions," Gaila pointed out; her voice was a little breathy.

_Damn it! She's right. I hate that._

"Right, you're right," I said. "We're here to work out and that's all that's going to happen."

_Right after I ogle a bit more._

His eyes were fixed on something on the display in front of him and I realized with a start that he was _reading_. He was running and reading - without a stumble, a second of hesitation. He was entirely absorbed – mind, body and soul – in what he was doing.

_He's incredible._

_And mine._

"Can I _please_ take a vid?" Gaila asked from somewhere outside of my bubble of lust.

"No," I hissed.

"But I asked Santa for this and look, there it is: Sweaty Commander."

"Go find another victim," I requested as Spock sped up, his movements still effortless. His chest moved in an even rhythm, he wasn't turning bright green or gasping for air. No, his body continued to operate like the machine that it was: muscle, sinew and brain working in perfect harmony as his eyes still sped over whatever he was reading.

_Please let me remember this moment forever and ever._

"You do _not _share well with others," she said. "Another black mark against you. At this rate, Santa's not even going to bother bringing you coal."

I tore my eyes away from the liquid poetry of Spock's movements so I could glare sufficiently at Gaila.

"Fine. Fine," she said, staring to walk away. "But I have a photographic memory."

_So do I. Thank God._

I returned my attention to Spock just as his gait began to slow and his eyes moved from the screen in front of him to scan the room.

When his eyes found me, it was like a physical touch. He slowed again; I swore I could hear his breathing over the machines, music and people.

He blinked, as completely composed as always, then nodded slightly at me.

I nodded back.

It was normal. Everyone knew that he and I had worked together closely together during the Invitational prep, and that we had brought home a trophy for all of our efforts. He was allowed to nod at me in a public place; I was allowed to nod back.

I was not, however, allowed to pass out from desire in a public place.

_He's wearing clothes, for God's sake. Woman, pull it together._

He was taking deep, even breaths as he began to walk. His eyes flickered across the room, barely pausing on me – but his eyebrow went up anyway.

_Deniability, Ny, deniability._

I straightened myself up and tried to redirect my focus.

_Find Gaila; get on machine; work out; do not attack boyfriend in public._

I saw Gaila on tiptoe at the end of another treadmill. She was conversing with a brunette with huge, deep brown eyes. He was wearing a t-shirt that said Mississippi! on it. I could hear her giggling over the rest of the noise.

He was older than most of the other cadets; his hands had strength to them – his eyes were wary and shuttered. There was an edge to him that was both compelling and off-putting.

_Oh, Gaila. You may be in over your head with this one._

She said something, and he smiled and, my oh my, it was a nice smile – it brightened his face and warmed his eyes. I had a boyfriend that didn't smile; I wished for a moment that he did and that it would be something like that.

Gaila bounced up and down; the cadet's luminescent eyes followed her every movement. I stared at the t-shirt that was stretched tightly across his well-muscled chest.

_I wonder if Spock would like a t-shirt that says Vulcan! on it._

"Cadet?"

Spock had appeared at my elbow. I could feel my hormones kick into overdrive.

_I don't need him to smile like older Mississippians. I just need him to be himself. And naked. Right now._

"Commander, hello;" my voice was even. Anyone seeing the two of us would think we were just catching up, chatting about everyday things – they wouldn't be able to tell that I was vividly picturing throwing Spock down to the ground and licking his entire body.

_Etcetera._

"How are your studies?"

"Great," I said, smiling widely.

_I'd start by stripping his shirt off and tracing every quivering muscle with the flat of my tongue._

"I believe you are taking Advanced Subspace Geometry this semester?"

_Then I'd follow the line of his left hip where it disappears beneath his waistband. The shorts – way too tight and way too short to be worn where other women can see him – would be shredded in seconds._

"I am, sir. I still don't understand why Communications majors have to take the class, but I'm making the best of it. I think I'll get a B."

_I'd take the length of him in my hand, then guide it into my mouth, my throat. I'd taste the tang of his exertions as I suckled him mercilessly._

He leaned his head towards me, just a fraction of a centimeter – but enough for me to be able to smell his neck: copper and spice, sweat and virile man.

_Yes, mercilessly. I'd suck him until he couldn't breathe right._

"You are a competent and talented student; you will do well."

The smell was intensifying. One of us needed to leave or else I'd behave in a very unprofessional manner. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

He took a giant step backwards. "I will allow you to continue with your exercise. Good day, Cadet Uhura."

"Good day, Commander Spock."

He inclined his head once more, then turned precisely on the balls of his feet. I allowed myself to watch his ass as he walked away from me.

_Mine, mine, mine!_

He disappeared down the stairs and reality began to filter back in. I was in the gym, there were people everywhere and – sooner or later – they were going to notice that all I'd done since arriving was stare raptly at an instructor.

I found a treadmill and forced my woozy legs to mount it; Gaila flounced over to me and climbed onto the treadmill next to mine.

"Holy Rudolph, Ny, did you see the cutie pie I was just talking to?" she asked as she frowned at the display.

_Holy Rudolph?!_

"He was very nice," I said – _but he's nothing when compared to Spock. _"You need to choose a routine," I prompted, pointing at the relevant buttons.

"Got it. So, he's older and a doctor. Did you see his hands?"She punched buttons until the belt began moving slowly.

"They were fine hands," I conceded.I chose a brisk pace; I needed to do something to dispel all of the carbonated hormones still zooming through my body.

_And the smile was amazing. You know, if you_ need_ smiles - which I don't, because I need Spock and Spock doesn't smile. But Spock can run. Oh Lord, can that man run._

"Fine?" she demanded, shuffling along. "Those are talented hands, doctor's hands – those are truly delectable digits. Those hands _know_ things." She smiled. "Of course, my hands know things, too – I think our hands could teach each other lots and lots."

Somehow my mind had drifted away from Spock in motion to Spock smiling - his perfect bow lips, all of that succulent pink skin, curved into a smile.

_Holy Rudolph, indeed._

"I have no doubt you could teach each other loads of stuff," I said, accelerating the machine. There was still too much electricity coursing through my body.

"And that's why I've decided to add him to my Christmas list," she announced.

I tried to look surprised; she sniffed at the attempt.

"Talking about teaching, have you decided what you're getting the VLB for Christmas?"

This time the surprise was real. I stumbled, and then quickly righted myself. Spock would be horrified if I killed myself on a treadmill.

"Nothing; the VLB doesn't hold to that kind of nonsense."

She kept shuffling and shook her head. "It's your relationship – I would never do anything to interfere."

I opened my mouth to argue with her, but she was quicker.

"Ny, I'm tired. How did I let you talk me into this?"

_Give me strength, Santa. Give me strength._


	3. Let Nothing You Dismay

Disclaimers, warnings, thanks in chapter one.

_**~Part Three of Four: Let Nothing You Dismay~**_

The Saturday before Christmas, I walked into my dorm room to discover that Gaila had decorated. There were lights everywhere; huge plastic ornaments hung from the ceiling on ribbons; red and green material was draped in huge swaths from the ceiling to shoulder height. Stepping in a straight line had somehow become hazardous.

_This is what I think Orion looks like._

In true Gaila fashion, everything was overdone, but in a freakishly organized way. Every ribbon was the same length. Every ornament tied with a perfect knot. The lights and the swaths were perfectly balanced; I was sure that if I bothered to measure them, there wouldn't be a variation of a hundredth of a millimeter.

"You're certainly embracing Christmas," I pointed out.

"It was Kelly's favorite holiday," she said. "Even though records state she was Hindi and her husband was Jewish and he preferred Hanukkah." She tipped her head and crinkled her nose in a way that had helpless cadets falling at her feet. "Ny, what's a latke?"

I readied to answer her, but her attention had already drifted.

"Oh! Look at this!" She flipped on the vid screen; a video of a merrily burning fire appeared. "I can also do falling snow and a tree."

"Wow that sure is something."

She nodded, her face wreathed with an enormous smile. "And I wrote something for the occasion. Check your PADD."

With a sense of foreboding, I did as she asked. "What is this?"

"A Christmas song."

My eyes scudded in horror across the screen.

Ny, you better watch out  
You better not cry  
Better not pout  
I'm telling you why  
Santa Claus is coming for Gaila  
He's making a list  
And checking it twice;  
And because I've been more naughty than nice  
Santa Claus is coming for Gaila  
He can see me when I'm sleeping  
so he'll wait for me to wake  
And he'll offer me his candy cane  
So tasty.... for goodness sake  
Big candy cane's pulled out  
And my name he will cry  
Too turned on to pout  
Ny, I'm telling you why  
Santa Claus is coming for Gaila  
Santa Claus is coming for Gaila

"That's not what a candy cane is," I squeaked.

"I thought you sucked on candy canes," she said, frowning at the song.

"No," I said, tossing the PADD on the bed and looked at the vid screen – she'd switched it over to a snow scene.

"Fine, since you don't want to sing festive Christmas songs…" she groused. She put her own PADD down, then bent forward – her long curls were brushing the floor – and rummaged under her bed. She emerged with a box wrapped in paper decorated with stylized snowflakes. "I guess we can move on to the next part." She thrust the box at me.

"Lala?" I asked, staring at it.

"I know it's early, but I want you to see it!"

With a sense of foreboding, I took the box from her. It was remarkably light. I looked at the thin metal wrapped into a bow around the outside.

"Tinsel," Gaila said proudly. "I had Mi'ch'l make it specially in the lab. He probably could've gotten kicked out for misusing Starfleet property – but he didn't seem to care. You know, after I explained things to him." The emphasis she put on the word "explained," well,_ explained_ everything.

"Tinsel usually goes on a tree," I pointed out.

She shuddered expansively. "No trees. Now quit stalling and open!"

_Santa please let this be the credits for Dr. Meister's book. Please let this be a hairbrush. Please let this be anything other than what I think it's going to be._

Taking a deep breath, I tore through the tinsel and the paper - being very careful to put the pieces in her open hands. The box was white and rectangular and very full of a big red bow that looked vaguely familiar.

"You liked the green one when we went shopping," she said, her voice vibrating with excitement.

"What? When?"

"When we were replacing the dress that was sacrificed on the altar of your Human/Vulcan sex orgy."

I stared at it, remembering very clearly that I had never said I liked the green one.

"So?" she demanded.

"It's very nice," I started.

"Hey! You asked for it," she interrupted.

"I did not ask for ling…," I began to point out before she shoved something at me.

"My" letter to Santa had appeared. I sighed, took it from her and glanced down. Right between "stick removal" and "less talking, more boinking" were the words "sexy lingerie that will drive The Commander out of his Vulcan/Human mind." I also noticed "shoes," and "actual, big girl makeup" before she grabbed the list back.

"You left off _A Complete History of the Romulan Language_," I pointed out.

"No, I didn't. I put 'big, boring book that only three people will find interesting.'"

"Three?"

"You, The Commander and Dr. Mister."

"Dr. Meister," I corrected weakly. I couldn't take my eyes off of the bow. It was big, but nowhere big enough. And it was very red. I could feel my face flood with blood. I couldn't even begin to imagine wearing this for Spock. I couldn't even imagine how he would respond to it.

_A raised eyebrow; a hesitant "Nyota;" his questions as to where his normally modest girlfriend had gone._

Gaila cleared her throat; she wanted some sort of input.

"Thank you," I said, focusing on the adage that it was the thought that counts.

"You're welcome. I figured you could wear it for The Commander – not that you'd wear it for anyone else because of that whole monogamy thing – and it would be your Christmas present to him, because I know you aren't going to buy him anything – even though Kelly has _never_ steered you wrong. Never, never, never."

"Thank you," I said again, cutting off her Dr. Flenderson-centered lecture as I counted the ways I was never going to wear the bow.

"He's going to love it," she said, her enthusiasm almost a physical force. She took a deep breath and looked expectantly at me.

"I don't think Spock's really into this kind of stuff."

"He's a man."

"He liked the white nightie, but he's never asked me to wear it again."

"He's a man."

"He seems to be just fine with my regular clothes."

"He's a man."

"I know he's a man." I took a deep breath. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, clasping her hands daintily on her lap and twiddling her thumbs.

"So….," she began.

"So?"

The awkward silence stretched on as she raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at the – I guess we were calling it a gift – sitting on my lap.

Then it hit me: obviously, the letters to Santa had really been a message to me, and I'd missed it entirely.

My mind raced. I could get her shoes. Or that toy. She'd already seen my boyfriend sweaty, and I was never going to let _that_ happen again.

Or, I could give her something she was always pestering me for; something she'd forgotten to ask Santa to get her. "Ask me a question," I said.

"What?"

"That's your gift. Any question and I'll answer it as long as you never let Spock know that I talked to you about this."

"Christmas gifts aren't supposed to come with conditions."

"Well this one does. Do you agree?"

"_Any_ question?"

"Any question."

"A _real_ answer?"

"A real answer."

She took a deep, shuddering breath and her eyes lit up. "Okay. Okay. Okay. Let's see. Does his hair move? No! I don't really care. Does he let you get on top?"

"That's the question?"

"Yes. No! Wait. I need to think."

I waited while she thought. Out loud.

"Toys? No, not that – I know the answer to that one: no way. Does he close his eyes or keep them open? Do you guys do role plays - the teacher and the student – the farmer's daughter and the traveling salesman?"

What_ is she reading?_

"No! I don't care about that. Oh! Has he bent you over the console in the language lab yet?" She paused, then flapped her hands at me, "Don't answer that – I know he has. You guys have probably sent out declarations of war to a half-dozen planets while you were bumping around."

I waited patiently – and nervously.

Maybe this wasn't the best idea I'd ever had.

"How green? No…" her eyes went unfocused and she grabbed her PADD and began typing, "How green is his peen, Nyota my queen? Oh that's good. That's real good."

_Where the heck does she come up with these things, and what's a "peen?"_

I sat quietly and waited, eventually she'd circle back to me.

Finally, she stopped, stared at me, and said "How big?"

There was no way I could pretend not to know what she was referring to. I gulped and asked, "You're sure that's the question you want answered?"

She nodded, her curls bouncing and her eyes sparkling.

_I'm sorry, Spock. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

I bit my lower lip, jammed my eyes shut and held my hands out a goodly distance apart.

She blew out an impressed breath. "Good job, Commander's mom and dad."

I popped my eyes open. "And now we're done."

"And he really, really knows what he's doing with all that?" She waved her hands towards mine, which were clutched tightly in my lap, already regretting the actions of the last five seconds.

At least this time my brain had been involved in the misdeed.

"I said _one_ question."

"My question is a question with multiple parts."

"Nope."

"Three parts?"

I shook my head slowly.

"One related part?"

I sighed and gave in. "Yes. He knows exactly what to do."

"With all that."

"Yes, with 'all that.'"

"You are so lucky, Nyota."

_I know._

"I think I need a little more information. You know, to make sure that your idea of knowing what to do is the same as mine."

"The gift part of the day is done," I said.

"Mmmhmm," she said tentatively. "So, have you heard of the Earth tradition of birthdays?"

_Santa, I could use that strength anytime now. _


	4. Most Wonderful

Disclaimers, warnings, thanks in chapter one.

_**~Part Four of Four: Most Wonderful~**_

_Oh __Zefram Cochrane_ _and Galileo, I'm going to kill Gaila. I'm going to kill her until she's dead._

"It was delivered by courier to my office this afternoon," he said, still speaking in his ever even manner.

"_Starfleet?"_ I squeaked, terrified that Gaila had truly lost the last of her non-sex focused brain cells.

"No, civilian," he said, his head tipped towards me. "You truly did not send this to me?"

"No. No. Oh, God, no. Spock. No," I stuttered, unable to get my words to catch properly.

"Then…," he began

"It's a present," I said, glaring at the all-too familiar piece of red humiliation sitting on the table in front of the couch.

_Please don't let him think I'm a sex maniac instead of just being forced to room with one. _

"I do not understand," he said, his voice more helpless than I'd ever heard it.

"A present from Gaila," I said quickly, my faculties finally returning. "She's been studying Earth traditions and, well," I waved my hand around my head, "it's December."

"Christmas," he said.

I nodded.

"And Cadet Gaila thought that…" his voice dwindled and he looked down at the red material sitting on the table. Sitting on the table and mocking me.

_Yep. She was dead - and during Christmas, too; so sad._

"That I should wrap myself up like a present."

There was a moment of silence as he digested this alarming piece of information. When he spoke again, he was almost whispering. "You are meant to wear this?"

"So Gaila thinks."

"Do you wish to do so?"

"No!"

"No?" he asked his voice a bit stronger than before.

"No," I affirmed.

He was still staring at the…_thing_.

"I'm sorry," I said again, leaning forward with the intention of sweeping the bad joke back into the box Gaila had sent it in.

He put out a hand to stop me. He was still staring at the bow. "I am trying to determine the logistics of this item. For example," he picked it up and held it in front of us. "Where does this section go?" He flicked what appeared to be a shoulder strap.

I looked at him for a long moment, processing what I believed he was asking.

He tipped his head and began to turn the bow upside down. Seven months ago, I would've believed his interest was purely academic.

Now I knew better.

_Holy Rudolph! I think he wants me to wear it._

"This is a most curious construct," he said, still studying the bow.

_He's into lingerie. HE'S INTO LINGERIE! How didn't I know this before? Why is he into lingerie? Oh God! He's a man. I keep forgetting that. He's a man like every other man!_

I stilled his motions, gently stroking the warm skin of his hand. "Spock, would you like me to wear this for you?"

"Only if you so desire," he said, his voice as calm and even as ever; however, his eyes had dilated and his ears were light green.

"Let's say that I do _so_ desire. Would you be okay with that?"

He placed the bow into my hands. "I would be, as you say, okay with that."

I stared at it for a long moment.

_I can do this. I am an intelligent, highly capable woman… who just happens to live with a woman determined to destroy me._

Spock sat very still beside me, anticipation arcing off his body.

_And a boyfriend who obviously wants to unwrap me._

"Okay," I said briskly, standing and heading towards the bathroom before I had a chance to talk myself out of this.

"Nyota?"

I stopped and looked at him. He was standing, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on me – heated and melting.

"Shall I await you in the bedroom?"

"Bedroom. Good."

_Goodish._

It wasn't until I was in the bathroom that I realized I was in completely over my head.

_Gaila was right – this_ is_ too advanced. I do best with white and silky. Are there instructions with this thing? Why aren't there instructions? Loop here, no there, no_ there_. Wait, where did that come from? Damn it! I'm going to have to call Gai…oh, wait, I see. Oh, no, I don't. How does this damned thing close? Why isn't there a sn…oh, there's the snap. The bow should be in front, not back….Oh, I get it._

And, somehow, through the miraculous intervention of some Orion sex deity, it was on.

The bow was uncomfortable; it kind of dug and chafed in sensitive areas that I didn't enjoy having chafed. But it didn't matter. It wasn't going to stay on for very long.

I hoped.

I took a deep breath.

_Dear Santa…._

I didn't even know what to ask for.

I made the journey from the bathroom to the bedroom without losing the bow or any skin – two feats of which I was inordinately proud.

I took my eleventh step and entered Spock's bedroom. He was standing in the middle of the room, resplendently nude – his penis already half-erect.

_So he's really into lingerie._

_Damn it! I_ hate _it when Gaila's right about stuff._

"Nyota," he said, his voice an octave lower than normal. "That is a most becoming item of clothing."

"Really?"

"Yes," he murmured as he reached out and grabbed the ends of the bow. He used them to drag me towards him; I went more than willingly. He began to kiss my cheekbones, my eyelids; he nipped along my jaw as I tried in vain to capture his lips.

I parried, he feinted.

"Spock!"

"Mmmm?" he murmured as he brushed his lips across my collarbone.

"Nothing." His lips felt just fine right where they were.

"What is this material?" he asked, running the long ends through his capable fingers. I could feel the heat of his skin on my stomach, even though he wasn't close to touching me.

"Uhm, I have no idea."

"It is most pleasing," he said as he began to trace the outside of the ribbon, his fingertip gliding over the skin of my shoulder.

"I'm glad," I was able to say – though my voice was strangled by arousal. He'd followed the line of the bow from my shoulder to where it cupped my right breast.

"Most pleasing," he muttered again. His warm skin continued along on its leisurely journey, taking the time to trace the edges of the bow **-** across my breasts, the top of my rib cage, down the long line of my torso to where it dipped between my legs.

He knelt before me and my stomach twitched in anticipation. His eyes met mine through his lashes. "Spread your legs, Nyota." His voice was rough; it was a command, not a request.

I complied; he continued his explorations, his fingers stroking beside the slip of material between my legs – his skin slipping across the inside of my thighs.

"Spock."

He pressed his hands into my hips and spun me around, then his fingers brushed between the cheeks of my ass. He was still following the bow as it wound around my body.

I shook a little as he stood – his breath fanning across my back. He moved my hair aside and traced the thick band of material stretched across my back, and then he kissed the back of my neck.

His nails lightly abraded my arm as he pushed the silk off my shoulder. His lips followed the descent of the bow; he slipped it free of my arm and pulled my palm to his mouth - kissed it lightly, circled the tip of his tongue in short, tight circles.

_Holy Oekon and every other god I've ever heard of!_

He took my index finger into his warm mouth and suckled it gently, while his thumb kept pressing circles into the center of my palm. I fought to keep breathing. I heard a whimper and realized that it had come from me.

Then he was pulling at my shoulders, spinning me to face him so he could capture my lips. He was greedy and devouring. I had a brief glimpse of his face – all hard lines and glittering eyes – before he kissed the sense right out of me. I distantly felt the bow being pushed down and off of me. I definitely felt him nipping at my lips – causing them to tingle and swell.

His cock was hard and heavy between my legs, then the room tipped. He lifted me up without discernible effort and then, there he was, every last delectable centimeter of him – stretching and filling me like only he could.

I gasped, my eyes opening wide.

"Nyota."

I nodded and wound my arms around his neck, held on as he began to thrust. His hands were strong as they supported me, wicked as he moved me in tight circles around him, clutching desperately as he began to move erratically.

I moved my fingers down, to touch my clit – to add another layer of stimulation for us both. His eyes widened as he watched me.

The combination of my fingers, his movements, and his eyes staring at my busy digits sent me over the edge. I threw my head back and howled. I could feel his fingers cushioning my head, could hear his gasps in my ear as he exhorted, exulted - as he found his own release.

When I was next able to pay attention to anything outside of my quivering body, we were in bed. He'd carried us there, laying down beside my vibrating body and tangling his legs in mine. Our bellies and chests were pressed together, creating humidity.

His eyes, the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen, were gazing at me with wonder. His hands fluttered towards my face; I captured his fingers and guided them to the pulse points.

"Our minds – one and together," he said out loud; then he slid into my mind, and me into his.

_Thank you, Nyota. _

_You…I didn't think…Why haven't you asked me to do this earlier?_ I questioned. _You've never asked me to wear lingerie again – never seemed to want or need me to._

_Ah, want and need are two very different things. I do not need lingerie – I need only you._

_And want?_ I asked, even as I let the thrill at his words entwine the question.

_It is most enticing_, he replied. _I find it alluring._

_But you never…_

_I would not ask you to do such things, my Nyota. I could tell that you are not entirely comfortable with them._

_That can change,_ I vowed. _I was mainly uncomfortable because I thought you'd be uncomfortable._

_I can never be uncomfortable with you._

_Are you sure about that?_

_Certainly. _His utter belief, his complete trust, in me flooded my consciousness.

I welcomed it – returned it. We floated there, in that place of pure communion, for a while.

_So you think I couldn't do anything to rattle you? _I asked finally.

_I do not become rattled, _he replied.

_Let's see_, I teased. _What about this?_

I sent him an image of my fantasies in the gym.

_Oh._

_Uncomfortable yet? _I asked.

_Not at all; _but he gently broke the meld anyway.

I blinked dumbly at him as the meld faded. I could still feel the residue of his response to it – joy, pride, love – and a fair amount of smugness.

"It would appear that we should be discussing many things, Nyota."

"Out loud?" I asked, giddy with joy and terror.

"That is the Human way. I do not wish this relationship to be purely dictated by Vulcan practices."

"Okay, then. Let's talk. You like lingerie," I said.

"I appreciate how it complements you and how it heightens my response to you."

"You like lingerie," I said again, "And you'd be good with me wearing it more often."

"I would not protest if you made such a choice."

_Vulcans!_

"More naughty nighties. Got it."

His eyebrow flexed. "Naughty nighties?"

"Do you really care what I call them as long as I wear them?"

"Most logical," he said, kissing the tip of my nose. "And you wish to observe me as I exercise."

"Yes, but only if I get to pounce on you afterwards – so any exercising would need to be done here."

"Quite."

"And a smile," I said, touching his lips with my fingertips. "Once, during a meld, show me how your face would look while you were smiling."

His eyebrows drew together. "That is a strange request, Nyota."

I shrugged, "So is you tying me up and having your wanton way with me – but I'd do it for you."

"I do not wi-"

"Remember," I pointed out, "I can see as much of your thoughts as you can of mine."

He was quiet for a long moment. "That was a very brief thought."

I grinned and raised my eyebrows, "And yet I was able to pick it out."

"We may explore your request and…my request at a later time."

"Count on it," I said. I was determined to see that smile, even if it was just the thought of it.

"I will do so."

I snuggled my face into the crook of his neck. He smelled heavenly. "Merry Christmas, Spock. I love you."

He hugged me closer, his lips brushing my temples. "My Nyota."

"My Spock," I countered as I brushed my nose across the perfect curve of his chin.

"I am."

_Dear Santa, I really don't need anything for Christmas. I have a family that loves and supports me – that taught me that who I am is all I need to be. The deity in charge of roommate assignments gave me a gift when he or she decided Gaila- and her irrepressible spirit – were just what I needed in a roommate. Gaila - I have Gaila. I have fingers that bought a book without my permission and lips that kissed Spock without input from the rest of me. My fingers gave me Dr. Kelly Flenderson, Psy.D., and her books. Starfleet gave me the Invitational and the Idiot Squad._

_Kelly gave me Oxford and Spock…and there could be no greater gift than Spock._

_However, Santa, with all that said, I wouldn't say no to a new pair of boots._

**~~The story continues in _Monogamy Rocks! _and_ Cattywampus~~_**


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